


Someone That I Once Knew

by AceFace98



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Cipher Abuse, Depression, Family Bonding, Found Family, Gen, Ill add tags and characters as I go, Necromancy, Non-Linear Narrative, One Day I will Post a Chapter at a Reasonable Hour, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smart Angus McDonald, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceFace98/pseuds/AceFace98
Summary: For each line Angus couldn’t read, he got a little bit more frustrated. A little bit more fed up with the whole situation, with the spell he was seemingly incapable of overcoming. He kept poking at the information before him, but nothing new came out of it.He built a blanket fort in the parlor of the manor, like a kid might do. Unlike more normal kids, though, Angus then pinned the notes he couldn’t read to every inch of the interior of his fort.He laid on the pillows inside, the dark and voided-out words surrounding him in what could only be described as a physical ball of anxiety.For a long, long time, Angus just laid there, staring into the static.Or,Angus McDonald has only called one case “unsolved” before, and it wasn’t the mystery of the Bureau of Balance.





	Someone That I Once Knew

**Author's Note:**

> So I'll warn y'all now, this will be told in a very, very non-linear fashion. If people are having a hard time keeping track of what happens when, I can make a little timeline with a summary of each section and add to it as the fic goes (like how the game "Beyond Two Souls" does)   
> I have a lot of other things I'm working on right now, including my current on-going fic MIA, which I WILL update as soon as I can. I actually haven't been writing much at all lately, due mainly to my job and all the new bullshit we're dealing with >.> This is a project I've been doing on the side that I wanted to finish and then post, but I really want to share what I've got because I like it XD I have a good near 40 pages of this done, but most of it is the ending or the middle so this'll probably update slowly and I'm going to finish MIA before I continue this.  
> The chapter titles are all going to be in cipher. I used a caesar cipher with a shift of 17. If anyone needs help solving them just comment or message me on tumblr :333 Though I can promise you now that the chapter titles are just me being cheesy.

**Angus: Age 10**

 

“I want you to know that you don’t have to be alone.”

Angus McDonald, World’s Greatest Detective, shuffles his feet through the carpet. He was wearing his very best black suit, with a small bowtie and uncomfortable shoes. His eyes were the only real spot of color, as they were bright red and puffy.

His grandpa’s ex-nurse was seated across from him, the two of them sharing a small corner of the now emptying funeral home. He didn’t know that much about the woman before him, other than she had helped his grandpa out when his grandpa couldn’t do much of anything. He took in more details about her now, from her very gray hair to the wrinkles starting to form on her face, to the plain wedding ring and the callouses on her hands. To the way she twisted her ring as she talked, like it was a nervous tic. But also how she, sometimes, forgot to keep it up, which was not like a nervous tic.

“It’d be very cramped,” She went on to explain. “What with my two little ones. And it’s nothing like you’re used to, but I can’t stand the thought of you just becoming another city case.”

Angus nodded slowly. “I ... appreciate that, ma’am” He said, just as slowly. He watched her hands, her hesitation with the probably-not-a-real-nervous-tic. 

“I just want you to think about it, OK Angus?” She continued. “Adoption may be your only chance to even stay in Neverwinter.”

Angus McDonald, the World’s Greatest Detective, shuffled his feet some more. Like an upset kid. He  _ was _ an upset kid. He was at the funeral for the last family member he had. He was completely and entirely on his own, a small body in a sea of responsibility. 

“I’ll think about it, ma’am.” Angus said, quietly. Like he might’ve been sad. “I ... I’ve got to talk to Mr. Siegel too.”

The nurse nodded, with a small and patient smile on her face. “You take your time,” She said. “Take as much time as you can. Just let me know what you decide, you hear?”

He nodded and gave her a small smile back. Then he stood up from the couch and crossed the hall.

Mr. Siegel was his ride home from the funeral, so he was waiting just outside the viewing room. The aging human man had been the family lawyer since before Angus was born. It wasn’t often he worked with wills, Angus knew, but he trusted Mr. Siegel a great deal. He had extensive knowledge in both legal matters and financial, and had helped Angus’s grandfather out of a good many issues. Now that his grandpa was gone, Mr. Siegel wasn’t really going to be a face in Angus’s life any more, but Angus was keeping his frequency at the front of his phonebook. Just in case.

“What did Miss. Zahn want?” Mr. Siegel asked, never one to beat around the bush.

Angus looked back through the doorway. The nurse was chatting with the old cook, one of the only two people left in the room. She caught his eye and did a double take, but then smiled. Angus smiled back.

“Nothing important,” Angus said. “Say, Mr. Siegel, sir? Do you think you could help me file for emancipation?”

  
  


**Angus: Age 6**

 

Angus McDonald was six years old, and had two very loving parents. 

Bonita and Clyde McDonald were both charity workers, and that kindness in their job extended out into their home life. Angus was a little bit smothered in it, sure, but he knew even then that it came from a place of love.

Which was why it wasn’t weird for his mother to check in on him as he woke up, and then again ten minutes later, despite the fact that it was the weekend. This was why when she told him she was going to a club meeting that night he had been expecting her to ask him if he wanted anything while she was out. 

Bonita was that kind of woman. She was frumpled, a bit forgetful, and messy as anything, but she was loving, kind, and overbearing but in a good way.

Clyde McDonald was a bit more subdue, but when Angus gathered a book under his arm and headed out to the yard to read, he was expecting the questions his father asked him from the living room.

“It might rain later, are you dressed warm enough?” Angus’s dad asked, putting his newspaper down.

“I’ll be fine,” Angus insisted, clutching Caleb Cleveland book 23 close to his chest. “Are you going to club tonight too?”

“Still kinda up in the air.” Angus’s dad answered, giving Angus a smile. “Did you have a preference of babysitter, then?”

Angus nodded with an innocent grin. “Abby lets me eat cookies right before bed. But don’t tell Mom!”

Angus’s dad chuckled as Angus’s mother called out “I heard that!”

Angus mocked a guilty face and booked it out of the house, followed by his father’s laughter.

Angus had a smile on his face that morning. He was still in a good mood as lunch came along and he went inside to eat. He was almost through the 23rd book - not quite as fast of a reader as he’d one day grow up to be, but still pretty impressive - when something happened.

Something changed his life.

That warm day in the middle of spring, where the weather kept threatening rain but was too lazy to deliver, Angus McDonald became a detective.

 

**Angus: Age 12**

 

Angus built blanket forts a lot.

It had started when he was six years old, a little boy alone in a big house, and had, originally, been just a method of making the world feel more real. More his-sized. As he took on more and more cases, though, he tended to build them so he could move his body while he was in thought. And once the fort was built, he’d take out the Darkvision lens and crawl inside to read case notes (or Caleb Cleveland, depending on his frustration levels), and let the dark relax him.

Point was, Angus was the fucking  _ best _ blanket fort maker.

“Damn Angus!” Magnus said. “You’re the fucking  _ best _ blanket fort maker!”

Angus laughed, standing precariously on a chair so he could pin a corner under a pile of books. Blankets  _ filled _ Magnus’s living room, going all around it in a haphazard tent-like  _ mess _ that was a sight of beauty. He had made individual  _ rooms _ inside, mostly built from draped blanket or piles of pillows, and Taako was already snoring away in one small section. Angus had been a bit worried about Mookie tripping over a supporting fixture, but the kid had taken one look at the pillow pile in the main room and decided he wasn’t moving ever. Mavis was outside the fort proper, but she was leaning against the bookshelf so one of the “walls” cushioned her back, looking just as content as her half-brother as she read a book. Magnus was bouncing around like one of the puppies he raised, way too happy with what was basically taking orders from Angus. 

Technically the fort had been Magnus’s idea. He had been cleaning out the hall closet, and mentioned how he had a  _ billion _ blankets. He then said that the only thing that could be done would be to build a fort, and maybe Angus had jumped up just too quickly.

He was proud of himself, though. The manor had a lot of blankets, for sure, but Angus had never really bothered to hunt them all down. He had normally just stuck to his; working with this many meant he got to get  _ creative _ .

He felt like Taako after a grocery shopping day. It was almost ridiculous.

“Alright, get down before you hurt yourself.” Merle barked as he cut through the living room. Merle, Barry, and Lup were spending more time outside with what remained of the barbecue meet-up, but they had all come through a couple of times now. Lucretia had even stopped by to admire Angus’s handiwork, before she excused herself from the party early (Her and Taako had an understanding, but that didn’t mean Taako liked having her around). 

Angus giggled and carefully stepped off the chair, backing up a couple of steps to see if the pin would hold. With so much of the room covered in blankets, there wasn’t a whole lot of places to safely step, but Angus knew how to be careful. Satisfied, he picked his way towards the front of the living room, to Magnus, leaving Mavis her own little nook.

“Whatcha think, sirs?” He asked, beaming at Magnus and Merle both.

“Hmmmm,” Merle said, humming for a long moment, then ruffled Angus’s hair. “Not bad, kiddo.” 

Angus grinned in pride. Merle hadn’t even used his soulwood arm, so clearly he  _ really _ meant it!

“This is tight as  _ fuck _ kid.” Magnus agreed. “I know you’re like, a genius or whatever, but hot damn I didn’t think blanket forts were a part of that.” 

Angus shrugged. “I used to build them a lot with my parents.”

He froze.

Everything suddenly felt ... wrong.

He hadn’t meant to continue that sentence past “a lot.”

He wasn’t even being honest, really. Sure, his parents and him  _ had _ built the odd blanket fort or two, but it wasn’t like they had done it all the time. It wasn’t even something he could look back on and think of it as an especially memorable family thing. Not like reading had been, or writing, or board games. 

But he  _ had _ built a lot of forts when ...

Angus shook his head subtly, shifting the thoughts away.

Magnus and Merle were giving him halfway shocked stares, like they weren’t certain how to respond to Angus’s casual drop of information. Merle slowly reached over and patted Magnus on the side, clearly signaling  _ you got this one, buddy _ , before quickly leaving the room.

“Uh,” Magnus said slowly.

“Sorry, sir” Angus said, only partly surprised by how distant his voice sounded. That tended to happen when he thought of his mom and dad. “I ... uh, I don’t talk about my parents much.”

“Yeah, we kinda noticed.” Magnus admitted. “If ... well, if you  _ wanna _ ...?”

He left the question open, inviting. Honestly, Angus wanted to take him up on the offer, to just hug the big fighter and let the whole story come tumbling out.

But so much of it made him so ...  _ mad _ . Sadness he could deal with. The Reclaimers nearly dying in Lucas’s lab? He knew how he had felt about that, and how to react to it. What happened to his parents?

He didn’t know how to feel about that, because he didn’t know what to  _ think _ about it.

“I ... um, I don’t ... I don’t know.” he admitted honestly.

“Can ... can I just ask one thing?” Magnus asked. “Are they the kind of people Imma want to punch, or?”

“What? No!” Angus said, a touch too quickly. He probably should’ve have been as surprised as he was by the question. “They’re just ... gone.”

He never said dead. It wasn’t because he was grieving over it, he literally  _ didn’t know _ . 

One day, Angus just ... didn’t have parents anymore.

 

**Angus: Age 10**

 

When Taako had first spoken in nothing but pure, literal static, Angus’s first impression was that he was under some kind of curse. A magical charm, at the very least. It was a logical conclusion, and it would hardly surprise Angus to hear about various kinds of magic that were used to keep secrets.

It wasn’t until he had the papers before him, papers full of things he couldn’t read, that he drew similarities between the three men on the train and his own casework. 

It was a very early morning, somewhere between five and six am, and Angus was already on his second cup of coffee. Not that he liked coffee, mind - couldn’t really stand the stuff, actually - but it was a hot drink and it was full of caffeine, so he ignored the  _ awful _ taste. He had papers all but covering one end of the dining room table, with his mug carefully shifting from free space to free space. Angus was in the midst of the long process of reviewing the past three cases - all the cases he had taken specifically to catch the Rockport Slayer. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, but Angus wasn’t often hired to take on murder investigations. That said, murder investigations sometimes came up in ordinary, everyday cases. Angus’s first case ever had involved a murder - it was really only a matter of time before people started properly hiring him for them. The Rockport Slayer cases, though, had a special kind of twist to them, with it being a murder and robbery case.

Before the Rockport Limited, the killer hadn’t slipped up enough to be traceable. Now that Angus knew he had been using the port wand magic, a lot of details in the other cases made a great deal more sense. He was now taking the time to compare the scenarios of the previous heists, double checking to make sure that there had only ever been  _ one _ culprit. He didn’t need a hypothetical Rockport Slayer co-conspirator free to commit more crimes.

He wasn’t finding anything though, which was relieving and a little bit expected. He, honestly, wasn’t normally this careful, but something about the three men on the train had thrown him. He wasn’t certain  _ what _ to think about the whole case now. It was solved, sure, but most of Angus’s attention during the event had been mentally teasing away at the mystery of Merle, Magnus, and Taako.

He picked up his paperwork for the most recent case of the Rockport Slayer. 

He nearly dropped it again.

Like a bright, flash of lightning, Angus suddenly finds himself staring at the biggest clue he’s ever seen ever.

He can,  _ physically _ , read the papers. He wrote them, he knows every pen stroke, every marking. He knows that he listed the name of the killer, and the name of the victims. He knows that, following that, he detailed out what happened on the train, only excluding his interactions with Merle, Magnus, and Taako. 

He knows these things are on this paper.

He can’t read  _ any _ of the names.

Well, that’s not true. He can read Jess the Beheader, and Percy, just fine. He can read his own name just fine. But he can no longer read the name of the two victims in this particular case, and he can no longer read the name of the killer.

Worse, he can no longer  _ remember _ those names. Angus prided himself on having an impeccable memory, and this case had  _ just _ happened. He should have no problem recalling these names. But, then again, he should also be able to read them; they were right in front of him, in black in white.

Angus moved papers aside, pulling his pocket journal out from where it’d gotten buried. He flipped the pages until he came upon his sketch of the symbol that had been decorated on the three men’s bracers. He’d called them communication devices, some sort of magical badge; a sign of a group.

A group was responsible for this. For not just  _ this _ , but the rest of it too.

Angus fell against the back of his chair, his journal loosely held in his hands. He stared over the symbol, even though he’d already committed it to memory.

For the first time in four years, Angus McDonald had a lead.

 

**Angus: Age 10**

 

Mr. Siegel was the one to open the letter from Mrs. Zahn. In his defense, though, when he had read the recipient of  _ Mr. McDonald _ , he’d been expecting it to be a letter to Angus’s grandfather. The recently deceased owner of the house was still receiving bills and notices, and part of Mr. Siegel’s job had quickly become taking care of these letters. 

Angus was recently emancipated, and was still reeling from the fact. The court case wasn’t anything like what he was used to, though, to be fair, he wasn’t often called to court. Instead of the standard trail, it had taken place in a small room, with a judge and Mr. Siegel. Mr. Siegel got together the documentation, overviewing how Angus’s family wealth meant his needs were more than well met, and that his status as “employed” meant he could continue to care for himself. The judge had ruled that, despite Angus’s age, emancipation was an option and asked Angus if he felt confident for it.

Angus did. For sure. He’d basically been taking care of himself since he moved in with his grandfather, what with all the cases since then. Besides, emancipation had been  _ his _ idea.

But it was kind of surreal and weird to hear that now he was emancipated, the only way to be adopted was through a version for adults. It was weird to think that he had to pay taxes on his work, his house, and his estate. It was weird to think he  _ owned _ things, like a proper adult person.

Sure, Mr. Siegel took away all of the work for him, thank the heavens. There was some stuff Angus needed to review and sign, but the legal jargon went well over his head. The lawyer had explained everything patiently to the ten year old, and Angus understood enough to know he was comfortable signing the paperwork before him, but the first few days were a whirlwind. 

Now, though, everything was on track, and a new account was set up to take care of the bills. The house was already paid for, and most of Angus’s grandfather’s loans were paid off, but taxes were a primary focus of Mr. Siegel’s and great attention had been put into making this set up. 

For Angus himself, he could access any account at any time. Mr. Siegel had offered to set Angus up with a trust fund, or some other kind of allowance, but Angus had declined. He didn’t think he could blow the whole family fortune, and, besides, there wasn’t a lot of things he wanted to buy. 

All that aside though, there were still a few bills trickling in after the death of Angus’s grandpa, which was why Mr. Siegel was opening letters.

“Angus?” Mr. Siegel called.

The duo were spread out on the dining room table. There were a couple of guests offices in the manor, but Angus wasn’t super comfortable in any of them. He was too used to working in the dining room, and the familiarity of it was nice in this mess of new. Mr. Siegel had taken up residency in the same room simply out of necessity to speak with Angus on occasion. 

Angus looked up, and Mr. Siegel held the letter across the table to him.

“You never told me Mrs. Zahn offered adoption.” He said. He wasn’t accusing, Angus noted, just curious.

Angus took the letter, looking over the slopping but also evenly measured cursive script. Mrs. Zahn hadn’t gotten the memo that Angus was emancipated, given her questions about her offer.

Angus sighed. “She did.” He said. “It wasn’t really relevant though. She just wanted my money.” 

“What makes you think that?”

“She kept trying to lie with her expressions.” Angus explained. “She pretended to have a nervous twitch, to make herself seem more likeable. She also heavily implied she was a widow, which I know to be incorrect. She also mentioned to me that she had ‘two little ones,’ clearly thinking that I wouldn’t know that her ‘little ones’ are 22 and 18 respectfully, but neither can leave the house because they do not have jobs.”

Angus shrugged. “Plus there was her choice of words. Just specific ways she phrased certain things. And that she brought this up at the funeral, where I’m expected to be in a very compromising emotional state.”

Mr. Siegel slowly nodded. “So you think she would’ve given you board, just for some of your money?”

Angus nodded. “If she had the ability to, she would’ve convinced a judge to allow her access to the accounts and I would never see a penny.”

“I see” Mr. Siegel said, in that slow measured way that meant he really didn’t, not entirely. Hey, at least Angus could confuse the lawyer as much as the lawyer confused him.

Angus shrugged.

“So this is why you wanted to file for emancipation?” Mr. Siegel asked, curious. 

Angus nodded. “I mean,” He said. “I don’t have any living relatives. There’s no one else who can take me in. Plus it gives me more freedom, you know? I can work proper hours.”

Child labor laws were a bit meh, sure, but there were a lot of questionability behind giving a small child a police badge, even if that kid deserved one. Now, there was no question behind it, and there was no fight to convince the militia to give him cases. He was just ... he was an adult now. With an adult job.

At ten. But, well, semantics? 

Mr. Siegel dropped the topic then, turning back to his work. Angus turned back to his, focusing on the paperwork  _ he _ had spread out. 

It wasn’t like Angus  _ had _ to work to live, or anything. The only this that this set up really left him was lonely, honestly. Everything else was taken care of.

Angus carefully began picking his way through a journal that had more voided out words than regular ones, trying to decipher clues from the pages. He couldn’t read the name on the cover, but he felt safe in assuming it  _ was _ a name. Inside the front page was a little doodle of that symbol, the one on the bracers of Merle, Magnus, and Taako.

Angus didn’t need to worry about his emancipation. He mentally shook himself free of those thoughts, and focused on the case before him.

  
  


**Angus: Age 6**

 

When Angus was six years old, he had taken on his first ever case. 

He really hadn’t meant to, it had just kind of  _ happened _ . He had been out reading in the yard, and the crime had taken place just beyond the overgrown hedge that threatened to swallow the fence whole. Angus was leaning against the fence, the branches giving just the right amount of shade to be optimal for late morning reading.

But he had been curled up for a while, and he was getting sore. He sat up straight to stretch, then spied the girl through the fence. 

She was just sort of ... standing there, looking around kinda nervously. Like she was expecting someone, or something, and wasn’t eager for it to happen. 

Angus watched her, curiously, and waited with her.

For a moment, nothing happened. The wind picked up, kicking around some leaves and making small tornados dance across the cobblestone roads. The girls kicked a foot, though Angus could recognize that the gesture was more out of nervousness than boredom.

After the still moment, something finally changed.

Angus’s house was on a corner, so he and the girl both hadn’t seen the man approaching. When they did seem him, the girl started, standing up straight. She waved, and that nervousness was still present.

Angus studied the man as he came closer, feeling a bit weird about this scene he was watching unfold. The man was an elf, and therefore he was all height and elegance. He had close cropped white hair that was almost the same shade as his skin, and one ear was twitching as he walked up to the human girl. 

The two began to talk, but too quietly for Angus to hear.

And then the man seemed to snap in anger, annoyance clear on his face. The girl fidgeted more, seeming to stutter over her next words, her gestures a bit more lifeless. After a second of her talking, the man snapped out and grabbed her arm. 

She didn’t scream, but she did yelp. She shook her head at him, and he snapped something back, and then pulled her down the road.

Angus watch, slackjaw, as the man pulled the girl out of sight.

Was ... did he just watch someone get kidnapped?

Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet. He walked to the gate in the fence, looking down the road, but the man and girl must’ve turned the corner and weren’t in sight anymore. 

He was panicking a bit, without a clue as to what to do next. He needed to, like, tell someone right? Or go to the militia? Had that even been a kidnapping, or had the man just been upset? They clearly knew each other, this wasn’t a random snatching.

Right?

Angus didn’t know what to do, so he tried to think of what Caleb Cleveland would do.

He took a steadying breath, then ran after the two.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on tumblr @aceface98! ^^


End file.
